


Hell is My Doom

by caramel_sins



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 1880s, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Western, Chewie is a dog, Dead Paige Tico, F/M, Millicent the cat - Freeform, Oral Sex, Sex Work, Sex Work Positive, Smut, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24409975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramel_sins/pseuds/caramel_sins
Summary: Rose Tico is a sharp shooter out for revenge. Two years after the murder of her sister, Paige , Rose receives some information about the man responsible. The information leads her to the door of the outlaw Armitage Hux, who is more than happy to see her.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50





	Hell is My Doom

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the American folk song “When I Was a Young Girl”. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this little one shot! Please comment below.
> 
> If you likes this or any of my other works go ahead and follow me on the hellscape known as Twitter! I’m @friendofdimpy

Armitage Hux’s homestead was only a few miles away from Rose’s. On flat terrain it would have taken her maybe an hour and a half if her pace was good. On the craggy rocks and inclines native to Colorado, it was closer to a three hour journey. Rose’s fury made her pace quick, she forgot the treachery of the landscape and her lack of fear made her steps sure. She knew she would arrive at his cabin well before dark. 

Ahead of her she saw the shaggy body of Chewie, her faithful protector. The massive hound darted through the trees ahead of her, nose in the air searching for any danger or prey that could be found. The fur trapper that had given her the pup had said he was a wolf hound, said he came from Ireland of all places. He had been a small thing then, with large paws and shaggy hair covering his dark mournful eyes. The little beast immediately set out to chew and destroy all that was dear to Rose and anything left unattended at the cat house. Phasma had threatened to send the creature out after a nice leather shoe of hers had fallen prey to his veracious jaws. Rose and Paige had begged her to let the little terror stay, listing off his many uses. It wasn’t until Chewie had defended one of the girls against the vile Plutt, that Phasma agreed to let him take up permanent residence. 

Life at Phasma’s felt like ages ago. It had only been two years since Rose and her sister Paige had been among Phasma’s girls. Rose had been apprehensive when Paige had suggested they take up the trade. They were raised to be good girls and good girls, girls that would one day be wives and mothers, didn’t do things like this. But being a good girl didn’t matter much when your belly was empty and you had nowhere to lay your head at night. Rose had been surprised that she didn’t completely hate what she did. More often than not the men that came to the cat house were looking for kindness along with the other pleasurable services they provided. Lonely hearts wandered through the doors of Phasma’s and Rose had a pencient for fixing such things. Of course all was not sunshine and flowers but such was life in any profession. 

All had been fine and dandy until that fateful day two winters ago. The memory of that night was as fresh as a wildflower. The cries and the shouts still rang in Rose’s ears when she sat with her bottle at night. In her darkest moments she still saw blood on her hands, red and sticky and warm. She woke up in pools of sweat, Paige’s name on her lips and tears on her cheeks. Over and over again she saw her sister fall to the ground and the light go out of her eyes. And over and over again she saw that man, a kerchief hiding his face from view.

No one knew who had come in that night and if they did they weren’t willing to tell. And the truth of the matter was no one really cared if a woman like Paige met her end on the floor of a whorehouse. No one cared that Phasma was beaten bloody, that Rose nursed a broken rib for months, that fierce little Rey was carted away screaming, no one cared one lick for their pain, their suffering, their happiness, everyone wanted to take but no one wanted to give. 

When the man had gone, taking no money, just one of the girls, Phasma had opened up her coffers to Rose. She handed her all the coins that Paige and Rose had made over their time. It was a small fortune, enough to make a nice little homestead for herself, away from town. Rose wept with gratitude, her tears wetting the dark lace of her mourning dress. Phasma had wiped her tears away with a gentleness that Rose was unaccustomed to, especially coming from a woman like Phasma. 

“Promise me one thing, Rosie. Buy yourself a rifle and learn to shoot it well.” And Rose had done just that. The rifle she bought lay across her back, now, as she climbed over rocks and roots, testing the sturdiness of her leather work boots. 

Rose was true to her word, becoming an expert markswoman. When money became a little tight she would put on shows. Her and Chewie would perform tricks, her with a rifle and Chewie would dance, his big paws on the shoulders of the largest man in town. It was a modest little performance but she was able to rake in some much needed coin. It was during one of these performances she first saw Rey. 

Fierce little Rey was no longer as little. Her thin body had transformed into muscle and her sweetness had dulled into a cold determination. She watched Rose, eyes trained on the tin cans she shot off of fence posts, marveling at how sweet little Rosie could take a man down from yards away. They had both blossomed like flowers in the ash of a burned down forest. Buds made stronger and meaner in the heat of a flame.

Rey approached Rose after her show, after those who had gathered dropped coins in her outstretched hat. Rey placed a solid hunk of gold in Rose’s hat and watched as her hand dipped with the weight of it. 

“Where did you get a thing like that?” Rose asked, her eyes never leaving Rey. The other woman smiled revealing a sweet dimple on her cheek. 

“Around.” Rose chuckled at her answer, eyebrows raised.

“Where in hell did you learn how to shoot like that?” Rey asked as she scratched Chewie behind his ears. 

“Around.” Rose replied. Rey’s grin doubled and she launched herself into Rose’s arms. The two women embraced, shoulders shaking with emotion. They held onto each other so tightly as if the fierceness of their embrace could squeeze all hurt and malice from their bodies. As if being held so tight would fuse their bodies and they would not have to carry their hurt alone.

“Oh Rosie, I missed you.” Rey said in the crook of Rose’s neck.

“What happened to you Rey?” Rose asked and Rey let her have little pieces of her life. She told Rose about her time in New Mexico, and Nevada, of how she rode hard and long to California, never looking back. She told her a tale of a girl who robbed banks with a bandanna over her face, who had wrestled her freedom from a cold broken man who had no good left in him. And the broken pieces of her life formed into a sturdy and fearsome young woman who wore britches and feared no man. It was a picture of a woman who would belong to no one. 

Rose marveled at her. She dreamed of that kind of freedom. Though she answered to no one, no husband, no father, no madame, she felt bound. She was bound to her anger, to her despair, to that moment when she held Paige to her chest a wailed over the still coldness of her lifeless body. 

“Why are you here?” Rose asked.

“I have some information that might help you,” Rey replied. Rose propped her rifle against the post and began to collect the cans she had used as targets. Rey walked beside her and told her about the band of outlaws she had rode with once the man with the handkerchief had picked her up. 

“You know them, they would come to town often. They’d drink and stay at Phasma’s. The heartless bastard never would stay but he had seen me apparently. Got it in his thick skull that I would make him a good little outlaw. Anyway, he had a partner, that man, Hux, who got that land out past the lake. He broke away from the gang not long after they got me.” Rose felt heat rise in her. She knew Armitage Hux well enough. He was at Phasma’s a lot during her time. He was an angry man, stuck up, full of himself. He always looked down on Rose and the other girls like he was too good for the likes of them. Just nasty little whores, nothing more. 

Rose never liked him. When he came into Phasma’s she avoided him, trying to slip past his notice but he always seemed to sniff her out. He would make her pour him drinks and ask her to sing songs while one of the other girls played the piano. And when he wasn’t ordering her about he watched her go about the cathouse, eyes always following. But with all the attention he gave her he never once asked for her services. On occasion she had seen him go upstairs with Phasma, apparently the madame was the only woman good enough for him. Paige used to tease her whenever he came in, calling him her beau and saying Rose was just upset that he never took her upstairs. She would deny it, of course, but she couldn’t help but wonder why he never chose her. 

No doubt he was a handsome devil, though too clean cut for a man out west. Somehow his black breeches and shirt never seemed to have dust on them. His leather boots always shined, his hat was always perfectly stiff, his copper hair always slicked back. He was a strange sight in a place like this. 

She thought back to that night, that horrible night, and tried to place him there. She always thought the man that had stolen Rey, the man who had killed Paige, was alone that night. And in all her recollections he was solitary in his efforts and she knew if Hux had been there she would have seen him. In truth, he wasn’t the only one who watched. 

“Hux wasn’t there that night.” Rose said definitively. In fact Hux had disappeared from her life well before that night and had yet to return. When she had left that cathouse all thoughts of him had left as well. If she was honest with herself, not all thoughts of him had left, but they were reserved for late at night, when the loneliness became too much to bear. But in the light of day her mind was occupied elsewhere. She was busy carving out a place where she could be alone, where she did not need to make happiness for anyone, where she was not obligated to fix anyone’s heartaches but her own. And she needn’t fix her heartache if she didn’t want to. 

“No, you’re right, Hux wasn’t there that night but I think he will be able to help you. He knows more than you think.” Rose looked at Rey for a long moment. She traced the lines on her old friend's face, how she seemed older than her twenty three years. She wondered where her youth had gone. Rose knew her youth lay in her sister’s grave. 

“What does he know?” Rose asked as she moved closer to Rey. Her voice had dipped, going quiet and cold.

“It’s not my tale to tell.” Rey replied. Rose glared at her. She felt her cheeks flush in anger. 

“Does he know? Does he know who killed Paige? Does he know why that mad man stole you away?” She felt her hands shake. She tried to breathe evenly, to let the fury wash away but all she could hear was her pounding heart. 

“Just go and see him, Rose,” Rey replied, voice even and calm. It made Rose angrier. 

“You’re telling me he knew who killed Paige all this time and he said nothing? He knew where you were and said nothing?” Rose knew she was shouting, knew heads had turned in her direction but she didn’t care. Her rage had multiplied, it eclipsed all reason, all sense of shame and self preservation. 

“Yes Rose, but there’s more to it.” Rey said, her voice soft. 

“Hell there is!”

“You should go see him.” Rey said as she put a hand on Rose’s shoulder. Rose shook it off and glared up at Rey, so angry she could spit. She began to pace, her mind reeled as she imagined all the ways she could make Hux pay. Thoughts of vengeance made her skin heat and her blood sizzle like butter in a skillet. Chewie paced alongside her, his wet nose bumping her hand in an effort to calm her. He was unsuccessful. 

“I’ll see that son of bitch, all right.” She let out a dark manic laugh as she imagined taking aim at him like he was one of her tin cans. 

“Rose,” Rey’s voice was soft, pleading. “Be careful. Everything isn’t what it seems.” Rose stopped in her tracks and turned to Rey. For the first time she noticed that Rey seemed surprisingly calm. All that fierceness wasn’t the volatile emotion that pinged through Rose it was something quieter, softer, still. She was so still. 

“Why aren’t you angry, Rey?” 

“Anger doesn’t get you much,” She replied with a shrug. Rose stared at her for a long time before she picked up her rifle and called Chewie to her side. 

“Well Rey, anger is all I got.” 

Rose’s anger was a good motivator. She barely noticed the way the branches and brambles scratched her skin, how her sore feet ached, how her throat cried out for water. All she could see was Hux’s cabin getting closer and closer and all she could feel was the blood pumping in her veins. 

Not long after she built her homestead she had heard that Hux had built a cabin not far away. He had settled down after all, no longer blowing in and out of town like a fall breeze but taking root. She had thought of traipsing up there a time or two, when the nights had gotten lonely, but she had decided against it. She should’ve been happy she need not see him anymore, that she didn’t have to do as he asked nor feel the weight of his stare. But part of her wanted that feeling back, the feeling of being wanted, of being of interest to someone else. 

All hesitation was gone now. She became a creature of action as soon as vengeance had been served to her on a silver platter. 

“Armitage Hux! Come out here and meet your fucking Maker!” She shouted as soon as she was close enough to his little cabin, her rifle raised as she approached. Chewie paced around her, feeding off her frantic emotions. She could hear motion behind the door of his little cabin, the sound of boots on wood. His horse huffed, drawing her attention to the little stable behind the cabin. It watched her, curious ears twitching.

“Who the hell…” She heard Hux say as he approached the front door, flinging it open. He stood stalk still as he assessed the situation, his eyes darting from Rose, to Chewie, to the rifle in her hand.

“Rose?” She got a good look at him now. He had changed. His appearance was rumpled. Long gone were the neat breeches and stiff shirts of his past. His face was hidden by a beard, his hair had grown long, dangling in his eyes. She had forgotten about his eyes, she'd forgotten how they shone green and blue depending on the light. Even from this distance she saw how they reflected the soft green of the leaves around him. 

“What in God’s name are you doing here?” He asked taking slow steps off his front porch. Rose stood her ground and adjusted her rifle to line up her sight. 

“Don’t you fucking move,” She growled. He stopped lifting his hands up in surrender. 

“Go ahead,” he said. His voice was calm, resigned. She faltered a bit, but didn’t move. 

“I said go ahead. Just promise me you’ll take care of my horse and my cat,” He moved closer and closer as he spoke. Rose took a small step back but kept her rifle level. 

“Shut up,” Rose growled. 

“Go ahead, Rose, shoot me.” He was close now. Chewie, the big dumb oaf, sat down in front of him, tail wagging and tongue lolling. Hux glanced down at him, his mouth turned up at the corner as he brought a hand down to scratch him behind the ear. 

“Don’t touch him!” Rose yelled. 

“Or what? You’ll shoot me? You have my permission.” He continued petting Chewie who welcomed his touch with a wagging tail and bumps from his wet nose. 

“Chewie, you goddamn traitor, stop that!” Rose finally dropped her rifle and whistled to the dog. He gave her a sad look, dipping his head and tucking his tail as he trotted over to her. 

“What are you doing here, Rose?” Hux asked again as he approached them. He had tucked his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders. Everything about him seemed different from the last time she had seen him. He no longer stood up tall and straight. He seemed less sure of himself and he no longer looked down his nose at Rose. He looked her straight in the eye, man to man. 

“You know who killed Paige,” she said through clenched teeth. He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes traveling from her dusty black skirt to the tight fitting jacket. It was a far cry from the frilly things she used to wear at Phasma’s. It was dull and dusty, more akin a riding habit than the silks a temptress might wear. For the first time in a long time Rose wondered what happened to those beautiful things she used to wear. 

“Why don’t you come inside, Rose?” He gestured to the cabin. Rose stared at the expanse of his forearm visible below the rolled up sleeves of his dark blue shirt. He was so pale that she could see the blue of his veins. The sight of it made her queasy. In that moment she remembered he was a man, a man with feelings and desires and a mother who probably loved him. And she remembered that just a moment ago she wanted him dead at her feet. 

“Alright,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“Might I ask that Chewie stay outside. I don’t want him to scare the cat.” Chewie perked up at the sound of his name trotting over to Hux and nudging his hand with his nose. Hux chuckled as he lightly patted Chewie on the head. 

“Sorry, friend, no offense to you. She’s a bit skittish around dignified creatures such as yourself.” Rose was taken aback by his gentleness and humor, things he never exhibited before. 

“He’ll go where I tell him,” she replied.

“One of the many men who follow your commands.” She looked up at him, brows furrowed. 

“No man follows my command. If that were so, my sister would be alive and I would have no need to come find you in your ramshackled little home.” He nodded thoughtfully in reply, trying to hide the smile that threatened to turn up his lips. 

“Ramshackled? I’ll have you know I keep this house in tip top shape. You could eat off my floors.” 

“I’m sure you can. You were always a fastidious little fusspot.” Rose scoffed. He chuckled at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Fusspot? Is that what I am.” 

“What would you call a man whose shoes were shined and shirt iron every day, rain or shine, in a place like this?” Rose asked as she stomped up Hux’s porch stairs. He stopped at the bottom and looked up at her, a smirk still playing on his lips.

“You know my shirt wasn’t always ironed and my shoes weren’t always shined. Perhaps I became a bit more  _ fastidious  _ when I knew I was going to be in your presence?” He tilted his head slightly, watching her like he used to, green eyes taking in every detail.

“Don’t try and flatter your way out of this. I will have my vengeance,” she whistled to Chewie, trying to distract from the blush that had crept up her cheeks. Chewie trotted over to her. She motioned for him to sit and he obeyed, resting on his haunches. He was so large his head was at Rose’s shoulders, he nosed at her chest as if to emphasize this point.

“Stop that, mister. Now you stay out here while I go inside, you hear?” Chewie laid down on the porch resting his head on his big paws. He looked up at Rose but made no move to follow her as she left him for the interior of Hux’s cabin.

Hux had not been joking about the cleanliness of the cabin. There was no dust on his floor, nor the table or cupboard along his back wall. His bed was made with military precision, the quilt pulled taut over the mattress and frame. He had little in the way of personal effects, just some books on a shelf and a trunk that most likely held his spare clothes. He had no photographs, no miniatures of loved ones on his wall. It was clean but it was bare. There was no warmth save for a little orange cat that slept on a rocking chair by the wood burning stove. 

“Have a seat,” Hux said as he pulled out the chair at his table. 

“Where will you sit?” Rose asked.

“I’ll kindly ask Millicent for hers. She tends to be magnanimous when I ask nicely.” He went over to the sleeping cat and gently stroked her head until she opened her large green eyes. She made a noise between a meow and chirp as she stretched out her little legs. Rose couldn’t help but smile at the creature as she yawned, stretching her body to nestle against Hux’s awaiting hand. He lifted her gently, depositing her on the floor so she could trot over to Rose.

Rose held out her hand to Millicent, letting the cat sniff at her fingers before she attempted to scratch her between the ears. She accepted the gesture, purring in delight at the attention.

“She likes you,” Hux notes as he brought the rocking chair over to the table.

“She has good tastes,” Rose said as she lifted Millicent onto her lap. The cat curled up almost immediately, luxuriating in Rose’s gentle attention. 

“Indeed. I’m happy to know she likes you. She’ll be in good hands once you exact your revenge.” He noted leaning back and taking a cigarette out of his pocket. He struck a match, lighting it, letting the smoke billow between them.

“I wasn’t joking, you know.” Rose replied, waving the smoke away. 

“Neither was I.” He looked at her for a long moment, taking another drag off of his cigarette.

“Why are you so eager to meet your Maker?” Rose asked. He was silent for a long time, making Rose uncomfortable. She fidgeted, pulling her long loose hair over her shoulder, feeling for twigs and leaves she surely picked up along her journey. 

“Now is as good a time as any,” he finally replied with a shrug.

“That’s a hell of a reason.”

“Do I need more?” He asked.

“I suppose not.” She said with a sigh. He regarded her taking another drag off his cigarette. 

“Does that ruin the fun for you? Rather have me beg for my life?” He asked casually. His questions made her head spin. She felt all topsy-turvy, like she had spun around one too many times. 

“Nothing about this is  _ fun. _ ” She spat out. He cleared his throat and sat up straight. He ran his free hand over his face, smoothing his neatly trimmed beard in the process.

“I suppose not.” He stood up abruptly. He walked over to the cabinet along the wall and pulled out a bottle of something amber colored. 

“Whiskey.” He said as he brought over two glasses. He poured about two fingers in each and slid one across the table in her direction. She took a sip, wincing at the burn of it down her throat. 

“Thank you.” She said, raising the glass toward him. He returned the gesture.

“To vengeance.” He downed the glass in one go, barely reacting to the burn of the alcohol.

“May I ask why I’m the scapegoat for your vengeance. You might recall I was nowhere near Phasma’s that night.” He sat back in his seat, rocking back and forth as he slouched further down the chair, his cigarette still poised between his long fingers.

“You knew where Rey was, where the man who killed my sister was, and you said nothing.” Rose replied through gritted teeth. He nodded thoughtfully, taking another drag off his cigarette.

“I suppose that’s true.” He continued to rock slightly, letting his cigarette dangle between his fingers. 

“You smug goddamn bastard!” She slammed her fist on the table. Millicent jumped up from her lap at the sound, sprinting away and scurrying under the bed. The only thing visible was the glow of her eyes glinting in the shadow.

“Look what you’ve done. Gone and scared away my girl. She won’t be likely to forgive you for that.” He leaned forward and peered under the bed.

“Did that mean lady scare you, little one?” He cooed.

“Oh will you stop this horsing around, for fucks sake!” She leaned over and smacked him hard on the arm. He wailed in surprise, bringing his hand up to rub away the sting.

“You got a fucking arm on you, don’t ya?” He said with a laugh, still rubbing at the spot. 

“There’s another one in the chamber if you don’t start talking, smart ass.” He raised his hands in supplication.

“Alright, alright. I’ll talk. Just keep those hands away from my more sensitive regions.” She snorted. 

“It all depends on your behavior.” Rose replied in her best school teacher voice.

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted. 

“Go on, now. Tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you dead.”

“I have a few good reasons: first off I’m very handsome and to kill me would deprive the world of my beauty.” He said counting off on his fingers. She raised her hand as if to strike again. He flinched, raising his hands bracing for an attack. 

“What did I say about horsing around?” She warned. He chuckled and shook his head.

“You lost your sense of humor, Rose.”

“And you seemed to have found it. Can you please get on with this? I would like to get back to my own cabin before tomorrow evening.”

“Didn’t know you were in such a hurry to kill me. I would have been more accommodating to your time constraints.” She hit him again. He flinched.

“The answer is yes. I knew who killed your sister and I didn’t tell you.” He finally admitted.

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“Nothing good would have come out of you knowing.” His face had gone serious. She was surprised to find she missed his joking. 

“What do you mean? If you had told me I could have shot that bastard dead and wouldn’t have wasted the last two years of my life living in misery.” She nearly shouted.

“Killing that man wouldn’t have changed anything, Rose. Might have made it worse.” He dropped the bud of his cigarette in the whiskey glass and watched as the ember died out.

“Like hell it would!”

“Trust me, Rose, killing someone doesn’t bring anyone back to life.” She huffed, throwing her arms up.

“What would you know about that?” She countered. 

“You would be surprised by all that you don’t know about me, Rose.” 

“Must you always speak in riddles like a goddamn sphinx?” She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“I enjoy having an air of mystery. Keeps things exciting, don’t you think?” He didn’t smile but Rose saw a glint in his eyes suggesting one was close to the surface.

“I find it tiresome but I’m happy to hear you still like the sound of your own voice. Must make nights here feel a little less lonely.” She took her glass of whiskey that still sat on the table and downed the rest effectively masking the way it burned going down.

“Oh I find the nights here to be mighty lonely despite my own dulcet tones.” His voice had gone low and soft. It made Rose blush and squirm in her seat. 

“Well you got your hands and an imagination. I’m sure you can take care of yourself just fine.” He laughed hard at that, a sharp bark of it. 

“My god, woman. You’ve got a mouth on you.” He rubbed his eyes and leaned forward on the table. 

“Tell me, Rose, what do you want out of this?” He was closer to her now. His nearness made her both nervous and excited.

Rose didn’t speak for a long moment, she just stared back at him. She traced the faint line around his eyes and tried to count the freckles that sat across his nose. She was lost for a moment in the vision of him. She knew right there that she couldn’t kill him. She let out a long sigh, the realization hitting her like a fist to the stomach. 

“I don’t know, anymore. Answers, I suppose.” She sounded defeated and the sound made Hux wince. 

“The man who killed your sister went by many names. I knew him first as Ben. We had known each other most of our lives, grew up like brothers. He was a strange boy, very serious, raised by good people. I, on the other hand, was raised by a cruel brute of a man and a sweet woman who didn’t live long enough to see me to schooling age.”

“I’m sorry, Hux.” Rose said, meaning every word. The pain that flitted across his face at the mention of his mother made her heart constrict.

“Thank you. I’ve made peace with it.” His voice was rough with emotion. She did not push him further but he soldiered on, anyway.

“Well Ben’s mother took pity on me and took me in for a time. Fed me and gave me kind words when I needed them. Ben and I would play like boys often do. My father liked none of it. Pulled me away as often as he could. Beat me bloody for betraying the Hux name. I was his son and no one else’s. 

Years went on and I fell into some bloody business. Having a father like mine did not lend itself to a life of saintly gentility. On one of these bloody rendezvous I came across Ben, though he no longer went by that name, and found he had formed a little band of outlaws. I will not bore you with the details of our exploits but let’s just say we did what most outlaws do.” He shifted a bit in the rocking chair. A shadow passed over his face and Rose felt a pang of something like pity. 

“After a time we found ourselves here and like many outlaws we went to the cathouse. That of course is where Ben first saw Rey. He wasn’t usually a man for carnal pleasures but he seemed to be taken with the girl. Obsessed would be the word I would use but you are welcome to supply your own. The long and short of it was he didn’t like the idea of her being with other men, as is the nature of her business.” 

“And mine.” Rose interjected. 

“And yours.” Hux conceded. For a moment he was silent. He regarded her, green-blue eyes boring into her, searching.

“Do you miss it? Your profession.” He asked. She thought for a long moment, gently twirling the ends of her hair in thought.

“At times I miss the companionship that came with living in a house, such as that. But it was a tiring affair. I grew weary of being so accommodating.” He nodded thoughtfully. 

“Shall I continue?” He asked. She nodded, settling back into her chair like she was about to hear a bedtime story.

“Ben had gotten into his head that he would rescue the fair Rey from her life of sin and take her to sin with him instead.” Rose scoffed.

“What is it with men and thinking whores need rescuing?” 

“Do they not?” 

“No! Some women would wish to be free of husbands, to have money of their own. Not to mention the pleasures of the flesh are not just the domain of men.” In the dim light of the setting sun she saw the way Hux’s eyes heated at her words. He stood abruptly, making her jump. He walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a kerosene lamp and lit it, bringing it over to the table. 

“Is that what you enjoyed? The pleasures of the flesh?” He said as he sat down again. 

“On occasion.” 

“What was so enjoyable about your profession? What made you stay?” He asked leaning forward, illuminating his face in the light of the lamp. The warmth of it made his skin glow and his long eyelashes stand out. 

“A promise of freedom, I suppose. Women, especially women such as myself, have very little choice. The profession, limited as it was, gave me some movement.” She brushed aside her bangs, feeling for a scratch on her forehead. She picked it nervously. 

“You had no choice in customers.” He replied. He had grown still, his cigarette burnt out and the whiskey had been drunk. The rocking chair ceased to rock under his weight. All that existed now was Rose and Hux and the lamp between them.

“Does a blacksmith have a choice in customers? A shopkeeper? A butcher?” She asked softly.

“I suppose not.” He was so very still. The light danced off of the planes of his face. His cheekbones were sharp and his lips full, their shape still visible behind his beard. 

“Did you want me to choose?” She asked quietly. 

“I wanted you to have a choice. If I asked for your company, you would have had no way to decline.” Her breath came quick at his admission. She did not know what to make of it. 

“Finish your tale, Hux.” She changed the subject but the tension in the cabin did not dissipate. He cleared his throat and leaned back once more, settling into his story. 

“Where was I? Ah, yes. So Ben wanted to  _ rescue _ Rey, a woman who needn’t have been rescued, as you so astutely pointed out. Despite my opposition to the plan he would not see reason. To be fair it had been a long time since Ben had seen reason. Rey was not the first, nor even the second, bad decision Ben had made. He rarely made a good decision, the dumb bastard.” His voice had gone thick with emotion but he cleared his throat and continued. 

“I was gone when he finally made his choice. I believe he waited until I left, knowing I would have stopped him if I were there. I don’t think I need to fill in this part.” She nodded, afraid to speak. She knew if she opened her mouth a sob would escape. 

“It wasn’t long after that I returned. Phasma had told me what happened. Oh she was bitterly angry. I thought she would burn the town down in her fury. I told her I would take care of it from there. It was the day you buried your sister, I think. Saw you from a distance in your black lace.” She looked up at him, no longer caring about the tears on her face. He leaned forward and with a slow steady head wiped them from her cheek. He dropped his hand quickly, leaning back, creating distance between them again. 

“Anyway, I went out and searched for them. I knew where he’d most likely be. Found them not twenty miles or so from here, in some cabin. Now that was ramshackle, let me tell you. Not as fine as this establishment.” She laughed at that, a watery sad little thing, but a laugh all the same. He smiled triumphantly. 

“So I went to this ramshackle little cabin, and well there’s not much to tell so I will tell it straight. I shot the man dead.” Rose gasped at his admission. More tears started to fall and he did not reach up to stop them. 

“There is more to tell, Hux.” Rose insisted. He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. 

“You see right through me, don’t you, Rose?” He looked her dead in the eye, his eyes were green again, bright with unshed tears. 

“I should amend my tale. I did not kill Ben alone. I let Rey have the honors.” She let his words sink in. Let her mind fill in all the spaces he left open. She didn’t like the picture it painted. 

“Why? Why did you kill him?” She asked. 

“So you wouldn’t have to.” He wasn’t looking at her any longer. His eyes were trained on the table, fingers picking at a knot in the wood. 

“What do you mean?” She stood up and walked over to him. He did not look up at her but continued to stare at the table or perhaps something that wasn’t there at all.

“Killing ain’t easy, Rose. It doesn't feel as good as you think it would.” His voice was soft, almost mournful in its tone. 

“How the hell would you know?” She demanded. He looked up at her then, one tear slipped down his face and despite herself she wanted to wipe it away. 

“I’ve had my revenge. Time and time again I’ve had it and each time I feel less of a man. Less worthy of a woman like you.” Her heart stuttered at his words. The pain in his eyes was so naked, so real, it broke her heart and yet his words mended it. All this time she assumed he thought himself too good for her and he had felt she was too good for him. What a fool she had been and he was a greater one. 

“So you’re telling me you killed a man for the love of me?” Her voice had gone soft. She reached out and cupped his cheek, sweeping away his tears with her thumb. He closed his eyes at her touch. 

“Sounds about right.” He replied. 

“But you never told me. You didn’t come to collect your reward.” She said with a sad smile. She cursed all the time wasted. Two whole years of loneliness that needn’t have been.

“You’re not a reward to collect.” He said as he covered her hand with his. She felt the calluses on his fingers, the heat of his skin. She wanted more. 

“What if it was freely given?” He shook his head.

“You would have felt an obligation. I couldn’t in good conscience have had you like that.” She laughed as she looked up the ceiling begging the angels for grace.

“Did you ever think that I might choose you because I wanted to? Not out of obligation? Or as a reward for a job well done? But as a woman chooses a man?” His brow furrowed and he looked away from her, confused.

“No.”

“My god, you’re a fool.” She whispered before she pressed her lips against his. His lips were soft and had gone slack at the shock of her kiss. She took advantage, deepening the kiss and letting their breath mingle. It was not long before he became aware of himself, surging forward, still seated. He wrapped his arms around her, large hands splayed along her back. She carded her fingers through his hair, feeling the silkiness between her fingers. He tasted of whiskey and a hint of rosemary. 

They broke apart and he stood. She had forgotten about his great height, how he towered over her small frame. His lithe form made him seem smaller but up close he became the only thing she could see.

“You would have chosen me all that time ago?” He asked, his voice a whisper. He stroked her cheek, searching her eyes. 

“You said it yourself, you are a rather handsome man,” she replied with a smile. He chuckled dipping to kiss her lips. She welcomed it, luxuriating in the feel of him, the soft scratch of his beard against her cheek. 

“All that wasted time.” He said, pressing his forehead against hers. 

“Don’t waste anymore,” she challenged. He captured her lips in a fierce kiss, letting it grow heated. His hands traveled from her face, to her neck, to the buttons at the front of her jacket. He peeled the garment off, bending to lay kisses on her exposed neck. She moaned at the feel, holding on to his shoulders for dear life. 

Hux’s hands traveled to the buttons of her skirt. He broke away so he could see, as he fiddled with them. Rose lent forward, kissing his neck and the sliver of skin revealed by the open neck of his shirt. He stilled for a moment, sighing at the feel of her lips on him. He finally finished with the buttons of her skirt and let the garment fall to the floor in a puddle of fabric. 

Rose stood before him in just her shift and corset, the tops of her breasts exposed to him. He lifted her so she sat on the table, making their height more even. He ran his hands over the newly exposed skin of her arms. He traced her form, one hand burying itself in her thick hair, the other pulling her close by her waist.

He kissed her hungrily, all teeth and tongue. She matched his passion, wrapping her arms around his neck and running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Hux pulled away from her, eyes scanning her face trying to memorize the flush of her skin and the fullness of her parted lips. She whined in protest and he smiled, placing a finger on her lips to silence her. She nipped at the offending appendage and he chuckled before placing a small peck on her lips. 

“I promise to make it worth your while.” She watched with rapt attention as he sank to his knees in front of her. He undid her boots, pulling them off her feet, kissing her ankle through her stocking. He did not bother with her stockings, leaving them on as he lifted the hem of her shift up to her waist, exposing her cunt to the cool air of the cabin. She sucked in a hissing breath in anticipation. 

Hux wrapped his large hands around her thighs and pulled gently, easing her bottom along the table until it rested on the edge. He kissed the inside of her thighs just above the edge of her stockings, one at a time, reveling in Rose’s sharp intake of breath at the feel of his lips on her skin. His teeth nipped at her soft flesh making her yelp in surprise, moaning when he soothed the spot with her tongue. 

“Do you enjoy torturing me?” She asked breathlessly. He leaned back and looked up at her, a grin plastered on his face.

“Good things come to those who wait.” He replied, gently rubbing his hands along the outside of her thighs, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin. 

“Haven’t I waited long enough?” She asked, reaching out and to gently stroke his face.

“I suppose so.” And before she could think he leant forward and ran his tongue along the seam of her. She cried out at the feel of the wet heat of his mouth on her. She had only experienced this a time or two in her years at Phasma’s and she could never recall it feeling this good. Hux was a talented man, he knew how to tease her, which way he needed to swirl his tongue to get her hips to jump and her breath to catch. 

Rose laid back on the table, legs spread, one hand in Hux’s hair the other grasping the edge of the table for dear life. It was sweet torture what Hux was doing to her. Every lick of his tongue, everytime his lips closed around her clit and he  _ sucked _ , she felt as if she was climbing closer to heaven, her body and soul floating above this mortal plane.

“You will be the death of me,” she moaned as a tremor of pleasure shook through her. He chuckled, and she felt the rumble in her core making her gasp and tremble.

Hux slipped one of his long fingers into her, then another, curling them until he felt her inner walls clench. The strangled gasp she let out was all the encouragement he needed and redoubled his efforts, helping her climb higher and higher. 

Rose hit her peak with a gasping moan. Her body shook and her back arched off the table. She was distantly aware of her hand in Hux’s hair and the sound of the legs of the table scraping against the floorboards as it moved with the force of her pleasure. He eased her through it with gentle strokes of his tongue and his hands rubbing soothing patterns along her thighs. 

When Rose finally came back to herself she sat up, pushing Hux gently away. He sat back on his heels, a smile on his face.

“You seem mightily proud of yourself,” Rose said with a smile as she stood before him. 

“Shouldn’t I be?” He was grinning like a fool as he pulled her into his embrace, kissing along her neck and chest. 

“I suppose so. Though I have not been introduced to the full breadth of your talents.” He pulled back and looked down at her, bringing his hand up to stroke her face.

“Anything for you, my love.” Her heart stilled at the tender appellation. She reached up and tenderly stroked his face.

“Take me to bed, Armitage.” The utterance of his name, changed something in Hux. Gone was the humorous man who teased her, he was replaced with someone who only knew reverent tenderness. 

He laid her down on his small bed like she was the most precious thing in the world, beautiful and fragile. He stood over her as he pulled off his boots and slid off his suspenders, his eyes never leaving her. Rose sat up, unhooking the front of her corset and peeling it away. Hux stopped, his hands stilled at the button of his trousers. He regarded her for a long while, taking in the way her shift revealed and hid her form in turn. How the light of the lamp only revealed the curve of one breast and the faint outline of her nipple. She looked up at him, brown eyes shining, her long dark hair falling around her. She was like an angel made flesh. 

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said with whispered reverence. She smiled, sitting up on her knees so she could pull him down for a kiss. 

“As are you.” She said against his lips, pulling his shirt up his body, only breaking so she could lift the offending garment off of him. She ran her hands along the expanse of his chest, marveling the way that he sighed at her touch.

Hux’s hands explored her as well, bunching up the fabric of her shift and lifting it away from her. He whispered a curse under his breath when he saw her, his quiet astonishment making her smile. His hands caressed her, covering the expanse of her skin. 

He joined her on the bed, settling in the space between her legs. She helped him pull his trousers off, her hand tracing the curve of his ass and along the smooth skin of his thighs. She liked the milky whiteness of him. In the glow of the kerosene lamp his body was warm hue, and the scars on his skin shone. It made him look like he was dipped in gold. 

She did not have long to admire him. His eagerness for her became apparent as he dipped his hands between her legs. She sighed at his touch, enjoying the way his hands glided over her slick flesh. 

“May I have you, Rose?” He asked, his breathing ragged.

“Yes, Armitage.” She whispered. He entered her with one smooth motion. They moaned in unison at the feel of it, the feeling of fullness, like coming home. It was both overwhelming and comforting. She felt him all around her, his hands on her waist and breast, his breath on her neck, him moving inside her. She sighed with each motion, the pleasure mounting. The sound of his own moans and sighs like music to her. 

“Rose, my Rose,” he whispered. She wondered if he even knew the words had escaped his lips. She kissed him, letting the action speak for her, letting the push of her lips tell him all the emotions she felt. He reached between them, stroking her clit, bringing her closer and closer to her second crisis. Her sighs turned to moans that turned into words of encouragement, telling him how good he felt. His name became a chant and then an exclamation as she came again, back arching pressing her body further into his. She barely registered his own orgasm, feeling his shudder and hearing her name on his lips distantly. 

He laid on top of her for a moment, body heavy but not unwelcome. She stroked his back feeling the slight stickiness of sweat along his spine. He kissed her shoulder and gently stroked the hair away from her face. In the dim light she could see the freckles on his shoulders and the light copper hair on the back of his neck. She traced both with the pads of her fingers, chuckling at the way he squirmed at her touch. 

“Are you ticklish?” She asked, tracing her fingers along his sides, smiling as he rolled away from her. 

“I might be,” he replied, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“I can’t believe a fearsome outlaw, such as yourself, could be ticklish,” she said with a giggle as he grabbed her running his hands along her, searching for her own sensitive places. Her ribs proved to be the place. She let out a shriek when his fingers brushed against her sides. 

“I can’t believe a talented sharp shooter could be laid low in such a way,” he smiled at her as she tried to squirm away from his fingers. 

“Just because you had your way with me does not mean you can torture me so.” She swatted his hands away from her. He chuckled reaching down to the floor for his drawers. He pulled them on and settled beside her pulling her against him. She settled at his side, resting her head on his shoulder and placing her hand on his chest. He brought his hand up to cover hers, pressing it to him so she could feel the beat of his heart. 

“What little heart I have left, Rose, you must know it is yours.” She looked up at him, tears making her eyes glossy.

“My love, believe me when I say you have a lot of heart to give. You are a better man than you believe.” He stroked her cheek, the pad of his thumb felt soft against her skin. He kissed her gently, letting his lips linger. It was a sweet moment but it was broken by the sound of a soft whine at the front door.

“Oh poor Chewie,” she sighed, getting up from the bed. She scooped up her shift and slipped it on. 

“Let the poor thing in. Millicent will have to suffer for the evening.” He sat up, peering under the bed to check on the aforementioned cat. She was fast asleep, seemingly unbothered by what was happening around her.

Rose opened the door to Chewie who burst in, tail wagging. He nudged Rose’s hand, pleading for attention. She scratched his head and was rewarded with a lick on her chin. 

“Settle down, mister.” She pushed his head away, laughing at his exuberance. Hux whistled, drawing Chewie’s attention. The dog bounded over to him, greeting him with equal enthusiasm. 

“He seems taken with you,” Rose said as she sat down beside him, scratching Chewie’s back.

“He has good taste.” Hux smiled at her, giving her a peck on the lips. She hummed in contentment and leaned on him, resting her head in his shoulder. 

“Stay the night,” he whispered. She looked up at him and smiled.

“Just the night?” She asked, brow quirked. He shook his head.

“No, longer. You might be surprised but it takes a lot of work to keep this cabin from becoming ramshackled. I could use some assistance.” He was grinning at her, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. 

“Alright, but I will need some form of compensation.” He raised his brow in question.

“What kind of compensation?” He asked. She leaned forward capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. He groaned into it, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. She broke away smiling. 

“Something like that.” She replied. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
